


Falling In Reverse

by Infamous_society



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, M/M, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Stucky - Freeform, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infamous_society/pseuds/Infamous_society
Summary: “And what if I say no?”Silence.“Get the hell out.”





	1. Chapter 1

Saturday morning in New York. The rain drizzled, tracing patterns down the window panes. The wind whistled as it danced between the skyscrapers and high rises. Dreary. 

Bucky sighed, staring out of the window. The memories he had regained of Brooklyn were few and far, but it was nothing like New York now. Bustling with life, people of all colours, religion, backgrounds mixing together freely. That was one thing that made him smile – equality was closer now than it ever had been before – but he knew there was still a long way to go. 

Stretching languidly as he stood, he made his way downstairs. Early morning running time once again. Running was good fun, even if the only objective was to leave Sam in the dirt.  _Actually, that made it more fun_. 

Steve and Sam were already waiting by the door, chatting about something or other. A smile graced Steve’s face as he looked up at Bucky, blue eyes meeting blue eyes - an ocean in between. Meanwhile Sam just groaned. 

“Alright lovebirds,” Sam started, ignoring the glares he was getting, “let’s go.”

Bucky scowled, “Quit it birdbrain.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to scowl, “Wow it must’ve taken you at least _an hour_ to come up with that name Elsa.” 

“Last time I checked Elsa wasn’t a gentically modified assassin who could snap your damn neck!”

Steve interrupted, knowing how long the friendly argument would last, “I thought we were supposed to be running.” 

City air hit their faces, pollution filled their lungs - another typical day in New York City. Feet struck against the concrete, arms moved back and forth, hearts beated steadily. 

* * *

It wasn’t that Bucky wasn’t paying attention; just Steve’s top was clinging to him in all the right places and was going see through with sweat and rain.

And he,  _the goddamn Winter Soldier_ , was not embarrassed about landing face down on the pavement. Especially not because Steve and Sam were laughing at him. Especially not because Sam happened to trip him up into a puddle that had formed. 

A growl escaped his throat as he stood, shaking himself like a dog that had just ran out of the sea. Hair fell loose out of his bun and clung to his face.  _Just brilliant. Talk about looking like Gollum._

“Sam I swear I will murder you in your sleep,” he seethed.

Momentary worry flashed over Sam’s face before he doubled over laughing, “you wouldn’t dare, you would be left alone with our Stevie here.” 

Bucky’s face darkened, “I still don’t see why it was necessary.”

 “Come on Buck...have a laugh, your old self would’ve found it hilarious,” Steve reasoned. 

Anger flared in his veins, the humiliation finally catching up to his feelings, Steve’s comment was petrol on the fire. 

His fists clenched. His jaw twitched. His muscles tensed. 

A deep breath. 

A single drop of rain landed on his arm. 

“Why can’t you just let it go Steve! I’m not James Buchanan Barnes from the 30s! I’m not him! I’m an ex-Soviet assassin who’s been tortured for seventy years! I have a prosethic limb! You saw me fall to what should have been my death!”

”Buck -“ Steve started.

”Don’t act all self-righteous. My first mission was to kill my sisters, I killed Tony’s parents, I’ve killed thousands of people. And you know what? You didn’t even flinch when we watched me killing the Starks! You didn’t bat an eyelid at the pain on my face! I sometimes wish that I could have killed you like I was meant to because I rescued you countless times but you just left me to die!”

He turned on his heel, ignoring the colour draining from Steve’s face, ignoring the wince that Sam was wearing, trying to ignore the thudding of his heart. 

“Well you done messed up now Steve,” was the last thing he heard before turning the corner. 

* * *

 “Honestly Bucky, you need to stop breaking punching bags,” a voice drawled, “I know Tony’s a billionaire but it just gets tedious.” 

A defeated sigh escaped his lips. Natasha stood in the doorway hands on her hips, a look of disappointment on her face. 

“I -“

”You had every right to do what you did Bucky, but now Steve’s moping around like his one true love has just died,” she stepped closer, “now come on and tell me why you are so annoyed.” 

* * *

 That was how Steve found them an hour later, mumbling to each other in Russian, screaming the occasional word in another language he didn’t understand, punches flying. 

Natasha aimed a kick at Bucky’s head, which he easily blocked. Grabbing her leg he tried to pull her down, but she leapt and twisted, swinging herself around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky grunted as he tried to throw her off. A shock ran through Steve. 

A thud distracted him from his daydream. Bucky had pinned Natasha down, body over body, both of them panting hard. He crawled onto his knees and started laughing.

_That’s the definition of sinful._

All he could do was smile slightly and step further into the gym, grimacing at the ruined punching bag and the murmur of Russian intermingled with laughter in the background. 

He stopped. Eyes were digging into his back. Natasha. He turned around and glared back.

There was only a fraction of a second to perform a break fall as Bucky shoulder barged him. Surprise ran through Steve’s body, leaving him speechless. All he could do was watch helplessly from the floor as Bucky walked out of the room. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

His shoulder hurt. Scar tissue highlighted his past.  _The scars on his shoulder hurt. The fresh marks on his shoulder hurt._ Blood caked under his fingernails and trickled down his torso. Haunted by ghosts of the past, constantly reminded by Steve. 

_Steve grinning. Then he was falling. Falling like a feather, waiting for the impact several hundred feet below. His voice hoarse, his eyes open in morbid fascination. This was no place to die - he survived the trenches, he survived the front line but here he was preparing to die in a valley in Europe. The clacking of the train was distant now, slowly entering the tunnel; he would never be found. Snow capped mountains rose up around him, caging him in, punishing him to solitary confinement, forcing him to die alone. Steve. Contorting in pain his body hit the floor, his left arm trapped underneath him, mangled and hanging limp. Blood seeped into the snow, heaven transforming into hell. Bone shards laid out on the ground, muscles shredded, and blood. Blood everywhere. A dizzying sense of confusion and pain. Darkness._

Footsteps gently entered his room: Natasha. 

A shaky breath. 

A gentle swipe of tissues, tracks of blood marring his skin. 

She exited the room as silently, stealthily and deadly as she entered.  

* * *

 “Stop with that bullshit Romeo,” Tony interjected, letting out a long sigh, “you’ve pissed him off big time.” 

Steve just tightened his grip on the mug he was holding.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark has a point,” a little voice piped up.

A dejected sigh escaped his lips. He didn’t come here to be interrogated.

Everything was in its normal place. The temperature wasn’t too hot or too cold but something felt wrong. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. 

“I just miss the old Bucky...” he whispered. 

Silence. 

Then a cacophony of noise. Noise everywhere, flooding his ears, trickling into his mind. He shut his eyes:  _Bucky in his uniform, smirking at Steve from underneath his hat; Bucky’s top slightly ripped, caked in blood; Bucky’s piercing scream as he fell and then the deafening sound of the engine._

The room fell silent. 

“Uh...Mr. Rogers sir?” 

Steve turned to look at Peter. He barely had time to raise his hand to block the punch. 

Ice laced with cyanide bored into his soul. Natasha was angry. Natasha was never angry. 

Her hand returned silently to her side, “If you even think about hurting Bucky anymore just remember I could stab you before you could even apologise.” 

* * *

 Sweat dripped from Bucky’s forehead, dried blood crusted by his shoulder, fear consumed his eyes. 

The walls of his room felt like they were closing in on him, every breath was torture.

_Torture..._

A whimper escaped from his lips as he scrambled backwards, trying to find something to cling on to. It felt like there were hands grabbing at him, knives etching twisted lies into his skin. 

_Faces contorted in shock, horror then agony. The bullets ripped through them, life draining from their bodies._

He was in his room. Not a HYDRA facility, not hunting his next mission. New York City. Not Bucharest. Not the wilds of Russia. 

He jerked upwards in fear, dashing out of his room, nerves tingling with apprehension. His door hit the wall with a loud thud, but that didn’t deter him. 

_The sheer terror of stepping onto the train. The thought of Zola recapturing him. The mantra he repeated over and over again. Fake smile after fake smile, whiskey burning his throat. Thoughts of death and agony._

_“I’m with you till the end of the line.”_

 “Earth to Bucky,” Sam jokingly waved his arm in front of Bucky’s face. No response. 

Sam took in the dishevelled appearance, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the feral look dancing in his eyes. He noticed the dried blood that coated his metal shoulder and his tank top. 

“Hey Buck...you’re in New York,” his voice was soft and reassuring, “in the 21st century, you’re safe.”

Bucky blinked slightly, as if only just acknowledging Sam standing in front of him, his eyes brimming with tears. Somehow he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, shaking nervously in front of Sam. 

“I just can’t be the old Bucky,” he choked out like he was running out of air, “the things I’ve done - I can’t...”

A small, sad smile danced on Sam’s lips - two war veterans with very different experiences. 

 

* * *

Natasha had helped Sam calm Bucky down, so here he sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands whilst they stood silently next to it.

A simple glance was all it took then they were gone.

Bucky was alone again with his thoughts.

A knock on his door. Unusual.

“Come in,” his voice was rough and strained from crying. Regret filled his mouth and poured into his lungs. He’d stopped trying to rip off his arm finally and resigned to thinking of bodies falling in front of him.

Steve stood like a kicked puppy in the doorway, big pleading eyes, “Bucky.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Bucky?” 

Blue eyes glared at Steve, flitting around the room, constantly on edge, daggers in his eyes. 

“Buck listen to me,” Steve begged. 

Once again Bucky stared anywhere but Steve, his head felt underwater, thousands of miles away from any refuge. 

“I...” the words caught in his throat, “I regretted every second you know.”

Bucky’s head snapped up, fire dancing across ice. His flesh hand clenched and unclenched, knuckles turning white. 

Steve glanced down before continuing, “I just wish I followed you off the train. You said until the end of the line but I abandoned you.” 

A shaky sigh followed. Bucky’s eyes were closed slightly, his hands trembling. 

“I can still remember it,” Bucky’s voice was hoarse, nails across a chalkboard, rough from not speaking. He was met with a concerned look and soft hands touching his metal arm gently.

“We’re soldiers Buck, from the Second World War. Every soldier on any front line is scarred,” Steve murmured softly.

_The Alps were freezing. Snow lay like a shroud for the millions of fallen. And he thought Italy was meant to be warm._

Bucky nodded his head slightly, “But not every soldier was captured by HYDRA.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, pain flashing through his eyes.

Steve’s eyes darted to Bucky’s soldier, drinking in the sight of scars and blood intwined. Screams echoing through his mind, the chilly winter wind on that fateful day still blowing through his bones. 

“But just remember the Howling Commandos, remember the time we spent together, remember what you were like before the war Buck,” Steve spoke softly. 

* * *

 

Blood boiling, he flung Steve onto the floor like he was a rag doll. Rage contorted his face, fists ready to punch. 

“I can never be Bucky from before the war!” He seethed, seeing red.

Steve winced, recalling the conversations with the other Avengers earlier. 

Bucky continue, ignoring Steve’s look of sadness, “I’ve told you time and time again, I’m not Bucky from before the war! I never will be. He’s dead. He was dying in the trenches, you know he was. He died as soon as Zola captured him!” 

Backing off, crawling slightly along the floor, Steve moved into a crouch. His chest was heaving, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

A fist narrowly missed his head, crashing into the wall behind him. 

Deadly, poisonous, toxic, “Why can’t you just let it go Steve?” Calm, collected, calculating, poised to strike down any opposition. 

Steve gulped, “And what if I say no. What happens if I don’t want to let you...wait no it...go.” 

Silence.

”Get the hell out.” 

* * *

 

Steve grimaced, twisting to avoid the roundhouse kick at his jaw. Leaning to avoid the hook aimed at his temple. Jumping to avoid the foot sweeping at his ankle. 

His limbs moved of their own accord, dancing with death, punches and kicks mingling into one elegant routine. 

He and Bucky had danced this routine many times, but never with so many feelings on stake. Never with such hurt and pain in each other’s souls. 

He ducked under Bucky’s metal arm, invading Bucky’s personal space, regretting his movement. Bucky could easily move to knock him down and he couldn’t even move his fists. 

However he still could push Bucky backwards. So Steve did, ignoring the hurricane, ignoring the fire, ignoring the explosion. 

Hands slipped on blood and sweat but Steve pushed backwards, until Bucky’s back hit the wall. 

Eyes were wide with fear, Bucky realised he had nowhere to go, except under Steve’s arms. He was a wild animal, ensnared after walking straight into a trap. 

Steve leaned forward very hesitantly, “I’m not going to apologise.” 

Bucky winced, “Am I not enough for you as I am now?” 

No answer. 

“Steve, tell me now. Am I not enough for you?” 

Steve surged forwards, hands either side of Bucky’s head, lips meeting Bucky’s roughly. 

Primal, raw, predatory as lips were nipped at and tongues battled for dominance. Hands wrapped around Steve’s neck, pulling him flush against Bucky. A growl escaped Steve’s throat as Bucky whimpered. 

_Intoxicating._

Then Steve was pulling away for air, panting like he’d ran a marathon, trying not to groan as Bucky left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. 

“Bu...Buck...I’m sorry,” a shaky moan left Steve’s mouth, “you are enough for me. You always have been enough for me. You always will be enough for me.” 

* * *

 

“So you two finally fucked?” Tony barely even gave them time to step into the kitchen. Everyone else’s heads turned round, staring at the mess that was Steve and Bucky. 

Bucky shrugged casually, ignoring the fact he was wearing one of Steve’s shirts. Steve tried to brush Tony’s comment off, act like nothing had happened. 

Sam was grinning like a maniac, “So you’ve just bought a new shirt and Steve just fell on his neck? Could’ve fooled me.” 

Steve’s hand shot up to his neck, a red tinge on his face. Bucky stood next to him, arms crossed, grinning like that cat that had caught the cream. 

“You can finally stop ogling him now when we’re running Bucky!” Sam cried with glee, knowing exactly how to wind his friends up. 

Steve glanced at Bucky, smirking all the while, expecting him to turn red. 

“I’m just going to stare at him more,” Bucky admitted, followed by a casual shrug. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, burying his head in shoulder. 

_Home._

A knife landed in the wall, millimetres away from Steve. 

“The offer still stands Steve, if you hurt Bucky, I’ll just hurt you even more,” Natasha threatened, this time there was no edge to her voice. 

Bucky just placed a kiss on Steve’s temple. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I’ve finally finished my first multi-chapter fanfic on Ao3! Of course I had to make it extremely angsty.

**Author's Note:**

> I believe Bucky’s first mission as the Winter Soldier was to kill his sisters because it would sever all ties to Bucky Barnes. It would make sure that he has none of his past life to cling onto.  
> Also I am here for Natasha and Bucky’s friendship!


End file.
